


rainy days

by pocoloki



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (Heavy on the comfort), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 07:48:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26349607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocoloki/pseuds/pocoloki
Summary: Victor has a bad day. His family helps him through it.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 11
Kudos: 121





	rainy days

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly I don't even know what this is. All I know is it's been like a year since I've written anything and, well. Gotta start the ol' writing machine up again at some point, rusty as it may be.

Makkachin is up and out of Yuuri’s lap before he even hears the key turning in the lock. 

For a split second, he allows himself to bemoan the loss of the poodle’s warmth, her presence curled up on his lap even more comforting than a blanket on such a dreary, rainy day. On the other hand, there’s only one person for whom she’d willingly abandon her favourite spot on the couch, and Yuuri is just as eager as she is to welcome him home. 

She hops down off the sofa and shakes with a small whine, padding towards the entrance as the front door opens with a telltale creak. 

Yuuri pauses his game but doesn’t put it down yet. He waits for the click of the door latch shutting, the familiar thud of a skate bag hitting the floor. He waits for the cheery, accented call of “ _tadaima_!”… but the call never comes. Instead, there’s a softer, heavier thud, and a few moments of muffled, whispered Russian. 

He’s about to drop his Switch and go investigate when Victor finally rounds the corner from the entrance. It only takes Yuuri a second to figure out why he took so long getting in. It’s there in the brittle way he smiles his greeting at Yuuri: tired, strained, as if it’s taking every ounce of the three-time Olympian’s strength to hold the expression. It’s there in the subtle, barely-perceptible slump in his shoulders. It’s there in the way Makkachin has planted herself almost protectively at his feet, attached herself to his side from the moment he walked in the door, so close that she’s practically leaning her full weight against his legs. 

It’s all there plain as day because Victor isn’t difficult to read, not to Yuuri, not anymore. 

Heart sinking, Yuuri tosses his game onto the coffee table without a word and opens up his arms. Something breaks in Victor’s expression and he sags, a marionette with severed strings. Makkachin matches every step as he crosses the room, single-mindedly determined to maintain contact with her guardian until he is safely delivered into Yuuri’s waiting arms. 

Victor heaves a soul-deep sigh as Yuuri’s arms close around him, melting into his embrace. His skin is clammy from the rain, his hair damp where Yuuri presses a kiss to the top of his head as they settle on the couch.

Makkachin hops up to join them as soon as they’re settled, immediately climbing over Yuuri to sit as close as she can to Victor’s side. Her left hind leg digs painfully into Yuuri’s abdomen, but he wouldn’t dream of moving her. The poodle gets incredibly protective when Victor is feeling like this, and no force on earth will move her from his side. The first and only time Yuuri had tried to shift her off of Victor on a bad day, had been the first and only time she’d ever really growled at him. 

Since then, they’d reached an understanding. Makkachin was willing to share her precious human with his husband when he was upset, but only provided she got the prime real estate. 

“Long day.” Victor says eventually, as if he needs to offer an explanation, an excuse for feeling this low. As if he needs to justify his place in his husband’s arms. “Ekaterina called.”

Anger stews in Yuuri’s chest at the mention of the name. He had never known what it was to truly hate until he met that woman. He despises her, her beautiful face and her cold blue eyes and the barbed, cruel words she buries in her son at every opportunity, digging into his every weakness and insecurity with merciless accuracy. 

He holds his husband a little tighter, as if to retroactively protect him from whatever had been said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Victor shakes his head abortively.

“Okay,” he murmurs, and lets the silence settle a while longer before speaking again. “What do you need, sweetheart?”

“Just… this. Just this.” Victor’s voice is so soft he can feel the breath on his skin clearer than he hears him speak. 

“Okay.” 

They sit like that for a long time, the three of them curled up together, listening to the rain hitting the windows. Makkachin snuggles into Victor and he scratches absentmindedly behind her ears. Yuuri plays with Victor’s hair, the soft strands slowly drying as he runs them through his fingers. His legs start to go numb, but he wouldn’t dream of moving his husband or the dog, especially not when he notices wetness on Victor’s cheeks as he brushes his bangs back. 

He leans in to kiss the tears away and Victor curls in tighter. 

“Sorry,” he breathes into Yuuri’s collarbone. 

Yuuri shakes his head. “You never need to apologize for this.” 

Victor shifts and glances at the Switch lying abandoned on the coffee table, desperate for distraction. “You can keep playing, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Yuuri shakes his head and continues to play with his husband’s hair. “Mm-mm. I’d rather stay here with you.” 

Victor sighs. “I’m afraid I won’t be very good company tonight.”

“I don’t mind.” 

Learning to read Victor Katsuki-Nikiforov has had its perks. It’s allowed Yuuri to see past the facade he has forced himself to maintain through years of spotlight and scrutiny. To truly know the man he’s idolized for over half his life, to love him as he is. It’s taken a lot of study, and a lot of frustration, but Yuuri wouldn’t trade it for the world.

That being said, it does have its disadvantages. Disadvantages like knowing intimately well the way he looks as he accepts praise that he doesn’t think he deserves. The way he looks right now, for example, as he nods silently, refusing to meet Yuuri’s eyes. 

“Vitya.” He says, gently, sternly. Victor looks. “I mean it.” 

And he does, he really, truly does. No matter what Victor might think, no matter what his mother’s poisonous words might do to convince him that he’s a bother or a chore or asking too much, he means it from the bottom of his heart. Yuuri will be here time and time again to remind him that she’s wrong. To bring him back when the doubt comes in, to hold him up, to hold him, period. 

Victor’s eyes are watering again, and Yuuri brushes the tears away before they have a chance to fall. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, barely audible over the quiet pattering of the rain on the window. He drops his head back down onto Yuuri’s chest and snuggles in, scratching Makkachin’s ears as her tail thumps against the sofa.

“Any time.” Yuuri means that, too. As many times as it takes, as often as Victor needs it, he will be right here. 

If it’s all he can do to hold him tight, to kiss his hair, to pour all the love he can into this incredible man who’s been starved of it for so long, for far too long, it’s okay. If all he and Makkachin can do is this, to surround Victor on these bleak and rainy evenings with the same love and care he pours into them every day, then it’s enough.

Just like Victor himself, it will always, always be enough. 


End file.
